A Twist of Fate
by LittlePixieStick
Summary: What would you do if fate suddenly threw in her hand? Life has twisted in unforeseen ways for Bella, Edward, Alice, Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett; brought together by fate, their lives will never be the same... AH, some OOC, canon pairings.
1. Cerebral Heartbreak

**A/N: Lynnlin and LittlePixieStick are pretty much fan fiction virgins. We've both spent a lot of time reading and reviewing the work of others, silently wondering if we'd ever have the gumption to post anything ourselves. Through a wonderful twist of fate, we met and shared our mutual Twilight addiction, and decided it was time to stop sticking a toe in the pool. So here we are, diving in head first. Please keep that in mind.**

**Lynnlin: I want everyone to know I am the proud owner of a dictionary and thesaurus, both of which I use frequently...**

**LittlePixieStick: I just bought a brand spankin' new LG enV Touch and a little black dress...**

**Sadly, neither of us own Twilight, Lady Gaga, or 3Oh!3, but we do like to read and rock out to them!**

**Let the fun begin!**

Chapter One – Cerebral Heartbreak

"_Bella, there's a party tonight at Mitchell's, you're coming, right?" Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my best friend Bethany unlocking her car door as she waited for my reply._

"_Of course, what else would I do on a Friday night?"_

"_Great" Bethany smiled her plump, bee-stung lips stretching wide across perfectly straight teeth, "I'm telling my mom that we're going to the movies and spending the night at your house."_

"_Awesome, same here, see ya tonight!"_

_Jumping into my Jeep, I cranked up my music and screeched out of the student parking lot._

_***_

_Taking about my tenth shot in under two minutes I couldn't imagine a better life; everybody at the party chanting my name and cheering me on. My opponent, Derek, was doing his best to keep up, but that just wasn't happening. On a whim we had decided to start playing Thunderdrunk, the flip cup table was getting a little crowded anyway. Besides, Mitchell's parties were always about being spontaneous, and the urge hit when AC/DC started blaring over the speakers. Each time the word 'thunder' was sung we both had to do a shot; my drink of choice for the night, Jose, straight from the bottle. Knowing how many times Brian Johnson sang that word during "Thunderstruck," it was no wonder we had drawn a crowd. Everyone likes to watch others make fools of themselves. Half way through the song Derek couldn't hold any more liquor and started vomiting all over the foe-fur rug Mitchell's parents bought__ in__Rome._

"_Dude, go outside," Mitchell yelled pushing Derek out the door._

_That's all I heard before I was thrown onto somebody's shoulders, hooting and hollering over winning the drinking game. The unmistakable sounds of 3OH!3's "Don't Trust Me" pulsed through the speakers and I was tapped on the lower back from below. The guy holding me deposited me to the ground and I swayed unsteadily as I looked into Mitchell's eyes. Was it just an effect of the alcohol I consumed, or the smoldering look in his eyes? Before my sluggish mind had time to process the question, his fingers brushed up my arm as he leaned in and whispered into my ear._

"_Care to dance?"_

_His voice tickled my ear. I was thankful I had dressed to impress this evening, as Mitchell's eyes raked hungrily from my black, patent leather kitten heels and tight, skinny jeans to my flowing indigo halter top with the chain-mail accent. I took his waiting hand and followed him through the house, passing couples locked in drunken embraces, very close to reaching indecent exposure, but too uninhibited because of their drinks and caught up in the moment to care. We made our way past the actual party to an empty corner on the other side of the house. The music was still loud in the room__as he pressed his body up against mine and started grinding._

_I was unaware of the passage of time as we rubbed our bodies against one another. The combination of alcohol, sweat, and the pulse of the music excited me. My libido was frantically reaching combustion, causing me to lose myself in his touch, grinding more intimately into him. It was evident that Mitchell was feeling the same, as he explored more with his hands and searched out the tender spot behind my ear with his amazing lips._

"_Bella, there you are!" my head jerked from its welcoming location against Mitchell's lips at the sound of Bethany's voice. She came into the room with a few other guys, laughter erupting from deep within as she noticed what she interrupted, instantly taking my hand dragging me out of Mitchell's arms. "Come on, Bella, I'm starving, and one of the guys already offered to give us a ride to McDonald's, and your car is the only one not blocked."_

_As I was pulled along, I focused on Bethany's long, strawberry blonde locks swaying as she made her way through the crowd. We were both feeling the effects of the night, and kept laughing as we stumbled down the hallway towards the back door. The lights of the party faded away as we stepped outside, Bethany's light orange tunic dress fluttering in the warm Phoenix breeze. We made our way to the street and climbed haphazardly into my waiting Jeep Wrangler, John in the driver's seat, Bethany and I in the back. She promptly put her seatbelt on, but I felt like being a bit dangerous and left mine off, holding onto the roll bar of the topless vehicle. _

_The wind in my hair felt freeing as we started down the street and, in my present state, having no seatbelt on in a moving vehicle was exhilarating. Because Mitchell's house was in the middle of nowhere, I assumed no one would have a problem with me being silly and having a good time while we were on the road. After all, we were coming from a party, wasn't that the idea? Bethany caught my arm before I could move fully from my seat, her voice raised as she leaned toward my face making herself heard over the wind._

"_Bella__,__ what are you doing?"_

_Rolling my eyes, I shrugged her hand off my forearm, gripped the side of the roll bar, and hoisted myself to a standing position within the Jeep._

"_Come on Bethany, get a life and have some fun!" My long, chestnut hair streamed behind me as John pressed his foot further into the gas pedal causing the Jeep to accelerate. Lady GaGa's "Love Game" was blaring through the speakers, the deep beat from the base resonating through my body, shaking me to my core. I couldn't remember ever feeling this free. Looking down at Bethany, I noticed she gazed at me with intense longing, and a little fear, in her eyes. "Join me! You know you want to...and you've never felt anything like this. It's incredible!"_

_With that, she was convinced. Bethany grinned her brightest smile as she undid her seatbelt and joined me in standing. Her laughter whipped through the air as she looked around, wind stinging her face, causing her eyes to tear slightly. She was still not relaxed enough to match my mood, her fingers gripping the roll bar so tightly the knuckles were white. She needed to release her fear and embrace the power of the moment. Gently, I took hold of her hand, encouraging her to release the death grip and just feel. Of course, she did as I silently asked; we were best friends after all. Taking a deep breath, we threw our joined arms into the air as I screamed out into the pitch black night, only the headlights of the Jeep lighting our way. After a few moments, Bethany's voice joined mine creating a discordant melody to echo across the road, mixing with the roar of the vehicle's engine._

"_Holy shit! What's wrong?" John finally turned his focus from the road, noticing his passengers were now standing, arms above their heads. "Bella, Bethany, you're going to get us arrested, or killed, if you keep that up." His deep brown eyes crinkled in laughter, negating the stern tone of his voice. We all erupted in laughter._

_The song switched, Bethany and I squealing in excitement as we began to sing along. "Blame it on the Goose, gotcha feeling loose. Blame it on the 'Tron, catch me in a zone. Blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol. Blame it on the a-a-alcohol." Bethany swayed to the beat with her eyes closed, hands still held high above her head. As I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes, the road before us once again came into focus._

"_John, John, Oh my god, watch out!"__I could barely make out the gleaming eyes of a large, White-Tailed Deer frozen in the middle of the road._

"_Bella, what the hell? Shit! John, look out, don't hit it!"_

_I reached for the roll bar as John spun the wheel of the Jeep in a panic, his reaction time slow and movements exaggerated from the still present alcohol in his system, sending us careening towards the gravel on the side of the country road. Not used to driving my vehicle, John didn't realize Jeeps were unable to turn on a dime; their wheelbase was too small. Tires screeched as his foot slammed on the break, the smell of burning rubber permeating the air. The Jeep began to tilt, fear and adrenaline coursing through my body as I held my breath, my brain comprehending the tragedy enfolding before my eyes but unable to force my body to react. As we rushed to meet the pavement, a loud, piercing scream reverberated in the dark._

_***_

_Red...everything was red...and fuzzy. I seemed to be lying on my back on something hard and unmoving, however; whatever the hard object had been placed on was anything but stationary. Each bump and jostle caused shooting pain to travel throughout my body. A loud buzzing sounded in my ears, and I twitched in panic as I uselessly tried moving my head. There was an abnormal amount of pressure on my forehead, and there was a blinding headache building behind my eyes. I feared opening them, knowing the light would cause the pain to worsen. Beneath the loud wail that would not stop, I could hear soft voices murmuring to one another. Perhaps, if I could focus on that the pain now coursing through my entire body would become less severe._

"_She's lucky to be alive. The impact of the throw alone should have killed her."_

_My brain rushed into overdrive, tossing about questions before I had a moment to even think about the possible answers. What was going on? Who was that person talking about? Where were my friends? Why couldn't I move my arms? Why did my head hurt so badly? Where the hell was I? I struggled to hold on to my thoughts as my body was jolted, pain coursing from my toes to my head. It was too much. An agonizing scream reached my ears, as the light dancing in front of my closed eyelids again faded to black, I realized the scream was mine._

***

"_Bella, Bella. Sweetheart, you've got to wake up. Please, you've just got to wake up." Desperation laced the voice in my dreams; I knew I had heard it before, but I struggled to connect the voice to a face or name. "Isabella Marie Swan, I know you're in there. I know it's hard, baby, but you're needed here." The voice became more insistent, shaper and more determined. I followed the sound through the haze of memories, finally connecting it to my mother._

_I fought desperately to reach my mother, the fog gradually lessening as I regained full consciousness but still struggled to lift the weight from my lids so I could open my eyes. Along with the gentle hum my mother's voice had acquired, I recognized multiple sets of footsteps and the beeping and whirring of various pieces of equipment. Where was I?_

_The light touch of my mother's hand was encouraging as I attempted, with renewed determination, to open my eyes._

"_What am I going to do if you don't come back to me, Bella? You just can't die on me. I won't be able to live without my little girl."_

_Die? I was dying?_

"_Mom," my throat felt like cotton and my voice sounded scratchy, but the hand holding mine increased its pressure, a sure sign that I wasn't dreaming._

"_Oh my god, Bella, you're awake. I was so afraid!"_

_Slowly, with great care, I forced my eyelids to cooperate. I needed to see her face, to know this was real._

"_Mom," still quite, but getting a little stronger. "What were you talking about, dying? I'm not dying." It was as though the thought had set off an explosion within my body. A deep, pounding bass rhythm picked up tempo in my skull, and my entire body began to throb. Finally, I was able to force my eyelids open enough to squint through my lashes, but even that was painful._

"_What are you talking about Bella? I said nothing about death." As my eyes began to focus, I could read the confusion etched in her features. "You must have heard me incorrectly. The doctor did say you would be confused for a while when you woke up."_

"_Doctor, what doctor?" My eyes were fully open now, taking in my surroundings. The room definitely resembled something found in a hospital. Drab, tope colored walls surrounded me, an ancient television set attached haphazardly to the wall directly across from where I lay. Gingerly, I moved my head towards the beeping sound still keeping a steady rhythm to my left, a heart rate monitor. My stunned gaze snapped back to my mother. _

"_What happened?" It came out in a fearful whisper._

"_Oh, Bella, baby, you really don't want to know. Please don't make me tell you this right now. I don't think I can bear to see your face when you find out Bethany didn't make it. You just woke up, please don't make me hurt you yet; you're in enough pain."_

"_Wait, what about Bethany?" My heart thundered in my chest. Nothing could happen to her. She was my best friend._

"_Bella, I didn't say anything about Bethany. What are you talking about?" Confusion showed through her hazel eyes as she squeezed my hand tightly, her own trembling a little._

_I sighed. "Mom, I know you're just trying to protect me, but I heard what you said about Bethany. Please, stop. I'm tired, I hurt everywhere; I just want to know what happened. You aren't going to be able to shield me from this forever. I'd rather hear it from you."_

"_I didn't say anything about Bethany sweetheart. You must be hearing things. Like you said, you're tired, and you're on many pain medications right now. Let's just continue this conversation later. You need to rest and concentrate on getting better. That's really all that matters right now."_

_Taking a deep breath, and wincing in pain at the effort, I prepared to continue arguing, however, I was stopped by the entrance of a stately older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a distinguished looking air; his white coat quickly indicating him as a doctor._

"_Hello, Bella, I'm Dr. Whitby. Glad to see you're awake. How's the pain?" Dr. Whitby rushed through his statements without pausing for my answers. As he rushed about the bed checking my pulse, shining a penlight in my eyes and scrutinizing my fluid bag, it became apparent he was not terribly concerned with my answers._

"_I'm feeling..."_

"_I know, like you've been hit by a truck." There was a slight chuckle, accompanied by an audible gasp from Renee. "It's to be expected. You will feel quite awful for at least a week, and it's going to take at least six weeks before you're on that leg again. It was a compound fracture. It will probably always be weaker than the other." _

_What a prick. First, he doesn't even let me explain how I'm feeling, instead jumping to conclusions. He didn't even really explain about my leg, or anything. What's worse, he goes off and makes a sick joke about being hit by a truck? The good doctor needed to work on his bedside manner._

"_Well, Bella, it looks as though you're doing as well as can be expected right now. I'm going to send the nurse in to administer some more pain medication." With that, he rushed from the room, white coat flapping behind._

"_He's certainly pleasant." Renee's voice broke me from my musing, her hand wrapped tightly around my own._

"_I know, right."_

"_What do you know, sweetheart?" The confusion was back in Renee's voice._

"_About Dr. Whitby, he was so rude."_

"_He certainly was."_

_Renee's comforting hand moved up to smooth the wrinkles of pain etching deeper into my forehead. The medicine was quickly dissipating, and intense pricks were coursing through my body._

"_Try to relax, Bella; the nurse will be here shortly. I know it hurts, but if you sleep it will help." A hand moved to stifle to yawn escaping her lips. "I'm going to stop down at the cafeteria and nab a cup of coffee if that's okay?"_

_I hated that she was too worried about me to sleep. I could only imagine the stress and fear I had caused. The call from the hospital had clearly woke my mother. She was still dressed in her pajamas, hair mussed from sleep, mismatched flip flops on her feet. She had never looked dearer._

"_Mom, I'll be fine. You go take care of yourself for a little while." I squeezed her hand quickly as she slowly moved away._

_The nurse arrived moments later, and I was sleeping fitfully before my mother's return._

_***_

_Filtered sunlight tickled my eyelids as I slowly woke from an unsettled sleep. Terrible dreams assaulted my unconscious, causing me to thrash about. Nurses woke me twice throughout the night, hearing my screams, but in the light of day, I was able to recall nothing that had haunted my night._

_To my left Renee's body was curled into what could only be described as an uncomfortably tight ball, covered by a thin blue blanket. Sometime in the night, the small pillow she had been using had fallen to the floor; her head now resting on the crook of her arm. She was going to be almost as sore as myself when she woke; her face however, looked at peace. I only hoped she would sleep for a while longer, I new she had been extremely worried about me, unable to rest comfortably until she new for certain I would be all right. Having to explain the details of the accident, and Bethany's resulting death, had been terribly hard on her. She held me as I cried uncontrollably, fighting with the nurses who kept insisting I needed a sedative, instead, telling them I needed to grieve. She sat with me for hours as I lay their, silently contemplating her revelation, hot, painful tears coursing down my cheeks. Never asking questions, never pushing, just being the strong, motherly figure I craved. I had never been more thankful for Renee than I was at that instant._

_I was glad when a nurse entered the room moments later, administering another dose of pain medication. While the sharp, stabbing pain had dissipated somewhat, it still lurked just under the surface. I knew if I allowed the medication to wear off completely I would be in utter agony. Quite frankly, I was enjoying my medicated state. I wasn't quite ready to face complete reality just yet. I knew it would be months before I could function properly, and I would never overcome the pain of losing my best friend, and knowing I was partially responsible. It was too soon to think about it. It hurt too much._

_Staring at the ceiling, I was counting tiles trying to stay as silent as possible so as not to wake Renee when I heard a slight rustle from the doorway. Carefully moving my head the short brown hair and light brown eyes of my stepfather came into view. Phil was scanning the room, looking intently at everything but the bed, and myself in it. Finally, his gaze rested on me, and he shuffled slowly towards my side._

"_Bella."_

"_Hi Phil, thanks for coming." I whispered. I was a little uncomfortable; Phil was a congenial enough guy, sure, but we were by no means the best of friends. He genuinely loved my mother, and in turn tolerated myself, however; he was less than thrilled to have inherited a stepdaughter through his marriage to my mother. Though he never said as much to me, I was certain he would have been much happier had I chosen to live with my father after their marriage. Still, that he was here was a nice touch. Perhaps we were turning a corner?_

_With calculated movements, he inched closer, finally sliding next to the bed, gently taking my hand in his._

"_My god, Bella, you look horrible. You must really be hurting."_

"_Gee, Phil, you really know how to compliment a girl." From the pain I felt throughout my body, I knew I was bruised from head to foot, but had yet to see myself in a mirror. I could only imagine closely resembling Frankenstein's monster with the web of stitches across my eyebrow__and the thick cast covering my left leg from knee to foot. No use letting__it stress me out though, there wasn't anything I could do about it at the moment. "I'm in a little pain, but the medicine is helping."_

_Confusion marred Phil's face as the noise of the various machines throughout the room again became the only sound. Had I said something wrong? I was only responding to his comments after all. Wasn't that the point of conversation?_

"_While I'm glad you're feeling okay, I don't know what you're talking about...Holy shit, how did she know what I was thinking?"_

"_You said it out loud Phil, and I have no idea what you're thinking." My hand was starting to hurt from the increased pressure Phil was exerting._

"_Bella, I don't know what the hell you're talking about."_

"_Ouch, Phil, you're hurting me!"_

"_Stupid girl, always been a pain in my ass..." The words died away as Phil removed his hand from my own. His eyes held increased confusion and a smattering of fear in their depths. What on Earth was going on?_

_***_

_It wasn't until months later that I fully understood how much the car accident had changed me. _

_Sure, there were the stares and whispers at school. The comments about how Bethany and I had been stupid and reckless, and that John and I should be thankful we were alive; the harsher whispers that we too should have died. Coupled with the pain of my broken leg and the months of rehabilitation, it was no wonder I had become a recluse in recent months. However, that was not the source of my ongoing misery._

_When speaking to Phil in the hospital that fateful day, I had come to the understanding that I would never be the same again. Unfortunately, it would take months to truly comprehend just how radical my transformation had been._

_After I began answering Phil's thoughts, without even realizing what I was doing, he began shouting in fear and confusion, quickly waking my mother and bringing a crush of doctors and nurses to my room almost instantly. At first, everyone thought Phil was crazy; that perhaps his actions were a desperate plea for a stepdaughter for whom his concern was so great he was unable to think clearly, or that he simply wanted me out of his life and would try any means possible to ensure that happened. Renee, of course, rushed to both of our defenses. She insisted Phil meant no harm, that his only concern was my well being, and that nothing out of the ordinary could possibly be wrong with me, after all, she hadn't noticed anything different. Perhaps it was all the medication the hospital had been pumping into my system without thought. It was making me hallucinate._

_Throughout the exchange I remained quiet, trying to piece together the events as they had unfolded, adding them up in my mind hoping they would somehow make sense. I could have sworn I was answering Phil as he spoke, but I couldn't be certain. I hadn't been paying attention to whether his mouth was moving. I couldn't be hearing people's thoughts, Phil had to be crazy. There were about ten people in the room right now, and the only voice I could hear was Dr. Whitby, who was clearly speaking to the rest of the room, asking those who were not immediate family to leave the cramped space, giving him more adequate area within which to make his examination. Personally, I was just thankful there were less people around to stare at me._

_Dr. Whitby came closer, placing his bare hand softly against the exposed skin of my arm. I'm sure it was meant as a comforting gesture, however; it filled me with trepidation. When his skin came into contact with my own, his voice became clear to me, however; his lips were not moving._

"_What a bunch of crap, I can't believe I'm in here for this. The man is clearly off his rocker. Well, we'll just give this little thing a quick once over and I can get back to my real cases."_

_I panicked! Heart rate accelerating, breath shallowing, body instantly enveloped in a cold sweat. With panic shining through my eyes I turned to face my mother as the world went black._

_It was still difficult to relive that memory, almost as difficult as the one's of Bethany. They were all so intertwined. Thankfully, I would not be facing the sharp reminders of my previous life for much longer._

_I had confessed my new found ability to my mother shortly after my panic attack in the hospital. After some experimentation, we learned I could only hear thoughts when in direct contact with a person's skin, which was a little, okay, a lot freaky, but at least I was safe most of the time. She, being Renee, thought it was cool, and, the next time she saw Phil, informed him that he was not crazy. He had been right all along. Unfortunately, Phil's being right did not help my situation. Immediately, he labeled me a "freak" in his mind, and refused to come within five feet of me for fear that I might either rub off on him, or know what he was thinking. Renee shrugged it off, hoping he would come around with some time to adjust, but that didn't happen._

_School was no better. My first few days back, I wore my typical Phoenix clothing, T-shirts and shorts. We were, after all, in the middle of the dry Arizona heat, I would simply roast like a pig on a spit wearing anything more. My attitude quickly changed, however, when I realized just how frequently one brushed up against another while walking the halls. It seemed as though I was on everyone's minds, and their thoughts were not kind, to say the least. It only took three weeks before I gave up, taking to only wearing pants and long sleeves at school, sometimes even going so far as to cover my hands with leather driving gloves, just for some peace._

_It was my chance encounter with John that finally did me in. While navigating the treacherous hallways of Mountain Point High School, whose danger quotient had increased exponentially with my current walking limitations and the need for crutches, I managed to, quite ungracefully, slip and fall. John, just so happened to be walking in the same direction, and bent down to assist me. He grabbed my wrist, at the juncture where my sleeve had slipped from it's protective covering overlapping my gloved hand. He touched bare skin. Immediately, his thoughts assaulted my mind._

"_Oh shit, I can't believe I have to do this. Not gonna be good to look like a prick to the whole school though. What a bitch, I can't believe she dares to show her face around here anymore. Everyone knows she's the one who killed Bethany, and now I can't get her image out of my mind because they asked me to drive. Seriously, who the hell does that? What kind of a friend was she? Now she's walking around school all holier-than-thou, in her crazy clothing like she's suddenly afraid of germs, trying to make people feel sorry for her. Well, I don't. She should have died too!"_

_Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I watched John walk away. His thoughts confirmed my suspicions, those I believed were friends secretly wished I would die in some freak accident. It was amazing how much one event had changed my life, overwhelming actually. I went from being popular to being completely detested by everybody in one foul swoop. Bethany had been my one true friend, and I killed her._

_The stress of home life with Phil, coupled with the horrible experience my little talent presented at school, had finally become too much. The next morning, I sat Renee at the dinning room table over cold cereal, and explained that I needed a change of pace, and wanted to live with Charlie for a while._

_There were tears, and some pleading, but it didn't take her long to understand my decision was nonnegotiable. I would leave for Forks, Washington in one week._

***

"Would you like anything to drink, Miss?"

The flight attendant's words snapped me from my memories. I slowly focused on my surroundings as she repeated her question, looking at me with a kind eye. I politely refused, shaking my head and turning my attention back to the patchwork ground thousands of miles below. I deliberately picked the window seat so I could hug up against the plane's wall, hopefully ensuring my sanity, and other's privacy, for the duration of the flight. Airplanes made me nervous to begin with, but being in such close proximity to others made it that much worse.

It seemed so surreal, me, getting a chance to start over, begin a new life in a new city. Bethany would never have that chance. I struggled for composure, clutching the small cup of ice water in my shaking hand, trying to keep the tears at bay. The last thing I wanted, or needed, was to draw unnecessary attention to myself.

Already, the person occupying the seat next to me had accidentally made contact with my skin. Brushing against that treacherous spot between my sleeve and glove as he took his seat. "Odd girl, she'd probably be quite good-looking if she smiled."

The defenseless feeling rose from the pit of my stomach once again, deep breaths and intense concentration the only way to keep my slight grip on reality as I struggled to keep the panic from winning. Would this never end? Hopefully, Forks would bring me some peace.

**A/N: So there you have it, chapter one...what did you think? As we mentioned earlier, we're new at this so comments are welcomed and encouraged. We'd love either positive reviews or constructive criticism to help us grow as authors. We'll be updating again soon, chapter two is currently in the works, and we hope you'll join us!**


	2. Emotional Strength

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you! To all of you who read/reviewed the last chapter, we would like to give a huge shout out. You honestly have no idea how much your thoughts, encouragement and support mean to us both. It honestly makes it so worthwhile!**

**Lynnlin: Currently in the processing of packing to move across many state lines, so there are crumpled moving boxes scattered everywhere.**

**LittlePixieStick: Now has two crumpled vehicles. The husband should learn not to take the summer car without letting me know he left his daily driver at the end of the driveway. We've got matching dents now – oops!**

**We still don't own Twilight, but we sure do love to mess with the characters!**

Chapter Two – Emotional Strength

_Laying on the ground, I tried to convince myself I did what was best for me. Frigid wind gusted beneath the underpass causing my small, thin frame to curl inward as I struggled to absorb a small amount of the heat radiating from the metal garbage can a few feet away. The fire was small, and so many bodies crowded close, it seemed hopeless. I shivered, pulling my ragged coat tighter, reciting the same words under my breath over and over._

"_You did the right thing, you had to get out, everything will work out in the end...you did the right thing, you had to get out, everything will work out in the end..."_

_Some days it was a struggle to remain positive, being homeless tends to have that effect, but I tried to remain optimistic. _

_Images of my biological father and the circumstances surrounding my departure encompassed my thoughts as I fought to stay warm. I loathed the vile alcoholic that played a hand in my birth. I seemed to be nothing more than a boil on his ass growing up, good only as an outlet for his verbal tirades and occasional punching bag. Somehow, every unfavorable event we found ourselves in became my fault, and I learned early on to stay out of his way. When the cable went out, I was the ungrateful prick with the black eye. The internet being disconnected deemed me the bastard son of a whore with twenty lashes to the back. Apparently, at age ten I had inherited bill payment without my knowledge. By the time I reached thirteen, my father found me to blame for everything from problems at work, bad traffic, anything that upset him. _

_While I often daydreamed of striking out on my own, the day that tipped the scale was really no more remarkable than any other. My father left me alone to go to the party store, chasing me around the house, screaming in rage over his inability to find the television remote had brought out his worst, and he always liked to booze it up after taking a few swings at his thankless son. Not two minutes after he left, the phone rang; still in intense pain, I let the answering machine pick up. Hearing the caller's voice, I tensed. It was not good. Over the years I learned that personal calls from the boss rarely ended well, and I knew my father's wrath would increase exponentially when he heard. I had to get out. _

_Quickly I made my way to my small bedroom, adrenaline causing my hands to shake as I threw random items of clothing in a small duffle bag, their nature not registering in my haste. I tore down the hall, heart racing, stopping on my way to the kitchen only to grab my toothbrush. The cupboards lacked anything of real substance, but I did manage to scrounge the remainder of a package of saltines and a few of my father's hidden cookies._

_I froze, not daring to breathe, my hand still wrapped tightly around the plastic package of cookies, as the sound of an engine met my ears. This was my moment, I had to leave while I still had the chance. Keeping my eyes trained on the curtain-less front window, I inched backwards towards the rear door. I waited with baited breath as he fumbled, cursing as he attempted to open the car door with the newly purchased brown paper bag wrapped bottle clutched in his right hand. Unsuccessful, he placed the bottle on the seat, opened the door, and leaned back into the vehicle to retrieve it. Sensing it was the only chance I would be given, I acted quickly, throwing my body out the now open door with speed I didn't know I possessed. _

_Shouts of "cops" and "popo" broke me from my memory laced stupor. I quickly pushed myself to my feet, turning abruptly, praying my feet would catch up with my racing mind as I slipped through a dank back ally, hoping to escape the police. Regretfully, I had forgotten the earlier rain and crashed to the ground as I lost my footing. _

_***_

_Acute pain wrapped my skull as I struggled to open my eyes. I wished to do nothing more than writhe in agony, however, the fear of increasing the torture forced me to remain still. Blinking, I gradually became aware of my surroundings, noting I still lay in the ally, my clothing now sticking to my body, soaking wet from an apparent downpour. Sometime while I had been unconscious, the weather had turned more ominous. _

_Gathering all the energy I could muster, I pushed off from the ground limping my way to the alley entrance; where a crowd of forsaken homeless had recently congregated, now emerged a desolate wasteland. I managed to slowly inch my way to the trash receptacle, careful of my still pounding head, only to realize whatever small heat it had produced was long since snuffed out. Looking beyond the overpass, I noticed another storm brewing. It would likely spill even more precipitation throughout the already drenched city making the night even more treacherous. Finding a warm, dry location to rest became my first priority, followed closely by finding something to eat._

_Wandering the South Central Los Angeles streets, I made my way as quickly as my injury allowed, stopping only briefly in numerous convenience stores to warm my freezing limbs, careful to never overstay my welcome. Though I was starving, I dared not take anything from the shelves. South Central was a dangerous place, progressively more so in the hours between dusk and dawn._

_Thankfully, I soon reached my intended destination, the subway terminal. The area was mostly empty, those who had the opportunity choosing to stay indoors. My body shook with effort as I struggled to jump over the gates without being seen, head pounding so fiercely I almost blacked out. Once I regained my equilibrium, I made my way towards a dark corner near the tracks, noting the passage of time by the coming and going of trains as I curled sleepily on one of the benches._

_I was unsure of how much time had passed when I noticed thick black boots in my peripheral vision. I closed my eyes, not wanting to be bothered, but a slight tapping sound moments later alerted me to the boot covered party's continued presence. Squinting, I took in the intruder's appearance. He was covered head to toe in camouflage, though strangely, I did not fear him. _

"_Mind if I sit here?" he asked indicating the part of the bench where my feet rested. Slowly sitting up, I nodded. The military-esque stranger sat down once my feet were cleared. Letting out a huge sigh, he grabbed his sack, also in camouflage, pulling out half a sub sandwich and a bag of chips. Its scent wafted towards me as the man took a large bite, humming in satisfaction. Saliva pooled in my mouth as I unabashedly stared, watching him savor that taste. Heat flamed my cheeks at loud grumbling noises my stomach began to emit. The next thing I knew, the sandwich appeared in the man's outstretched hand. _

"_Here, you take this, I had the other half on the train." Hesitantly, taking the sandwich out of his hand, I smiled at him quickly taking a large bite, afraid the man would renege on his offer. "My name is Luke, what's yours?" _

_Between mouthfuls I replied, "Emmett." He waited until I was done devouring the sandwich, and the chips he had since offered, before holding out his hand for a simple shake. _

"_It's nice to meet you," Luke replied letting go of my hand. "Are you still hungry? I know an all night diner a few blocks from here. It's warm, and the food is good."_

_I carefully considered my choices. I could run now, back into the freezing rain, quite possibly making myself sick, or I could go with the stranger, a man who just gave me a sandwich and was offering more. Taking a look into his eyes, I figured "what the heck" my gut hadn't failed me yet, no sense in questioning it now._

"_Alright," getting up from the bench, I waited for him to gather his stuff. I figured this would be the best time to thank him._

"_Uh…thank you for the sandwich."_

"_No problem, man."_

_For some reason, during our time at the diner I opened up. Luke was just so easy to talk to, and I had held my story inside for too long. After downing three cups of hot chocolate, I was comfortably full and smiling. It was then that Luke offered me something beyond my wildest dreams._

"_Emmett, how about you come with me tonight? I've got a place that's nice, dry and warm where you can stay." _

_I was about ready to refuse, after all, random strangers don't just invite you home off the street without some ulterior motive, but he spoke up again, this time a bit more insistent._

"_Emmett, I won't be able to rest comfortably knowing you're out here in the cold and rain. Please let me do this, and tomorrow we'll figure out how to get you off the streets."_

"_I don't want to go to the police, or be handed over to the foster care."_

"_That's fine; we'll figure something out tomorrow."_

_Luke's apartment was overwhelming, more luxurious than anywhere I had ever been before. From the gourmet kitchen, large fireplace, and furniture all in one piece I knew this was an upstanding man. He took care of his things, unlike my deadbeat father. Just by providing a safe, comfortable place to sleep, Luke seemed more like a father figure than my own. For the first time since my mom died, I felt completely safe, and…it was with an almost complete stranger. It wasn't long before Luke went to bed, leaving me alone. Cozy under layers of fleece, it didn't take long to ease into a deep, dreamless sleep._

_***_

_The scent of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns roused me from my slumber late the next morning. Ever so slightly I forced my eyes to open. There, on a plate seemingly floating on air were the foods that caused the delicious aroma. Still fogged by sleep, my hand rubbed the corner of my eyes. _

_I panicked for a moment realizing belatedly the events of yesterday. I was in Luke's apartment, he let me stay last night, and for some reason, I trusted him._

_Silently, I took the plate from his outstretched hand, smiling my thanks as I quickly tucked into the meal with gusto. Luke peered out the windows as I ate, quietly watching the sun's rays bounce off the neighboring windows. I fought my desire to lick the crumbs off the plate, the food was that good. As I set my plate down I was unable to contain a loud belch. My head hung in shame and embarrassment, waiting for the discipline I was sure to follow. While my father was no great example, he had always placed great stock in proper manners, something I suppose he had retained from the short time he and my mother were together. When I exhibited less than exemplary manners in his presence, he would punish me severely. Out of habit, I covered my mouth with both hands and started apologizing._

"_Emmett, you're alright, I don't think I would have been able to hold it in myself, but thanks for the compliment." Luke's quite chuckle encouragement that he truly was not upset._

"_Wait, I'm not in trouble?"_

"_Of course not, but let me share something with you, man to man. The only time it's okay to burp, is with your buddies and not ever around a girl."_

_Sure, it was a really simple lesson but, it touched me. Luke was quickly becoming my idol, the first man I had ever seen as an example. Before I knew what happened, or even realized I had moved, I was embracing him in a tight hug, thanking him over and over again._

"_So, what am I going to do with you, Emmett?"_

_My eyes widened in fear at his words. Was he going to kick me out? I had been so confident in my gut feeling, the thought of it failing me was crushing. He looked so serious._

"_First," he sniffed the air dramatically, "you need to shower, and then we'll talk."_

_I stood, half dressed in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror after Luke pointed me in the right direction and again made sure I had everything I would need. My mind wandered through the events of the past month marveling at the drastic changes. I went from the only home I had ever known and an abusive father, to running away choosing homelessness, struggling to find food to eat and a bench or cardboard box to sleep on or under to the alternative. Now, someone who didn't know me at all proved that good people still existed in the world._

_I hadn't been raised a deeply religious person, well, not after my mother died anyway, but she taught me to never underestimate the power of the Lord. So, while I wasn't sure it would work, anytime I was especially discouraged, frightened or thankful I whispered a little prayer. This morning was no different. "Thank you, Lord for giving me the strength to leave and the courage to survive so far. Thank you so much for bringing Luke into my life. I don't know how long he'll accept me being here, but for however long. Thank you."_

_I felt at ease after my short sojourn into religion, like a burden had lifted from my shoulders. Cleansing took quite a while; being without a proper shower for almost a month caused me to savor the experience, I wasn't sure when I would be presented with the opportunity again. Almost an hour later I emerged, clean from head to toe, spotting Luke with his cell phone to his ear, already dressed to go outside. _

"_Yeah, we'll be there in a bit, he just got out of the shower. Thanks Ronald." _

_Hanging up the phone, Luke inhaled deeply through his nose. _

"_Oh yes, that is a lot better, how do you feel?"_

"_Good, thanks!"_

"_As I'm sure you've noticed, I work for the US military. I know you don't want to stay on the streets, so we're going to the base. We'll see if anyone there can help you out."_

_While the idea of being tied to the military frightened me, I was thankful for any opportunity, and followed Luke towards the elevator._

_Feeling lighter than I had in a long time, I suddenly felt the urge to act my age. "I'll race you," I exclaimed running full tilt towards the stairs, "I bet I can beat you!"_

"_On this elevator, I bet you can too." Luke chuckled watching the indicator light make its way to the fourth floor._

_He shouted, grabbing my attention as I paused to yank open the door to the stairwell. "If I make it down before you do, I'm enrolling you in military school, which you will attend, without fuss. However, if you make it down before I do, I'll give you five hundred dollars cash and a free place to stay."_

_My jaw dropped, and I gaped, bug eyed, too astounded to comprehend that in order to receive the prize I had to act. My mouth moved, but no sound was produced, I didn't know what to say. The ding announcing the elevator's arrival woke me from my stupor. Luke grinned; shouting "You'd better hurry" as the doors opened and he stepped inside._

_My body hurtled through the still open door, my legs catapulting me downward as fast as they could. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, giving me the courage to jump entire sections of stairs in my haste. In my hurry, I neglected to pay close attention to my footing, sliding precariously on a wet step I was unable to regain my balance and tumbled, head over heels, down the last flight of stairs._

_***_

_Beep…beep…beep…beep…_

_My head was spinning. I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins as though in complete harmony with the horrible noise. Why wouldn't it just go away? Migraines are not helped by noise; I had become an expert on the subject in recent days. Cautiously, I moved my hand towards my head, hoping to relieve some of the building pressure by rubbing the area where the pain was most intense, but paused when I realized something was attached to my arm. _

_What happened to me? _

_I racked my brain, finally able to recall my last moments of consciousness. I fell down the stairs. What a way to lose a bet! _

_Figuring I must have ended up in the hospital, I cautiously opened one eye, then the other, taking in my surroundings. Machines were scattered throughout the room connected to my arms by IV's and chest by electrode lines and patches. The beeping must be coming from those, measuring my heartbeat and other vital signs. While the noise was still overwhelmingly painful, it helped minutely to know where it was coming from. As my eyes adjusted further, I ventured a look about the room. I was completely isolated. No roommate to speak with, and no windows to help me gauge where I had been taken. The room was stark and bizarrely over sterile with blindingly white walls, ceiling, even floor tiles and bed linens. The cool stainless steel of the bed frame and machines stood in sharp contrast, but were no less intimidating. The only decoration a large mirror hanging on the far wall. What kind of hospital was this?_

"_Mr. Emmett McCarty, how are you feeling?" A strange man, a doctor I assumed, questioned glancing at the clipboard hanging on the wall next to the door. _

"_Where am I?... Where is Luke?... Who are you?" I had hoped to fire off my questions in rapid succession, using my recently acquired street skills to intimidate the man before me. Unfortunately, the inquisition came out in more of a croaked whisper. My head began to pound ferociously as attempted to sit up. "How do you know my name?" The familiar anxiety crept up my spine as I realized this place might have contacted my father. They did have my name after all. My body began shaking with fear as I considered the possibility that my father waited just outside the room to take me home. Undoubtedly I would be punished severely for running away, and probably for the loss of his job as well._

"_I'm Dr. Richards, one of Luke's friends and co-workers," he replied snapping on green plastic gloves, grabbing the clipboard off the wall and gracefully taking the few strides to my bedside. _

"_How are you feeling? You had quite a spill," he commented as he slowly examined the back side of my skull. Finding the protruding knot growing in the spot where I hit my head, he felt around it. "From a scale one to ten, one being not much if any pain and ten being the worse pain you ever experienced, how do you feel?"_

_That question brought my throbbing migraine back to the forefront and I winced in response. _

"_Well the bump itself isn't too bad, like a three, but this migraine is crazy, feels like an eight or a nine."_

"_Hmm, I'll prescribe some Ibuprofen and have the nurse take your vitals," Dr. Richards turned to the wall beyond the bed glancing at a clock I hadn't noticed previously. "I'll be back in about forty-five minutes. The RN will be in to take your vitals; there's also another person who wants to talk to you. When I come back in I'll bring you a TV and I'll see if I can find Luke!"_

"_Thanks Dr. Richards."_

_The doctor placed the clipboard back on the wall, walking out the door. The door never fully closed, a large hand sweeping it back open, allowing an equally burly man to enter. He was huge, think Bruce Banner as the Hulk, minus the green skin and bulging veins; still very intimidating, especially when paired with his black clothing and dark sunglasses._

"_Hey Emmett, how's it going?"_

_Was he kidding? I had recently slipped, falling down a flight of stairs and injuring my head in the process. I was currently hospitalized, but I didn't know where, and besides the ever present pain in my head, my body was beginning to ache as well. I don't know what was with this guy, but something was off. I just didn't feel comfortable around him. My first impulse was to give a smart ass remark, but thought better of it._

"_Why are you here and what do you want?"_

"_Well," the guy brought up a stool from across the room and sat beside my bed. "To be honest, we've been following you for awhile, surveillance on the house, things like that. When you left, we continued…careful to cover our tracks."_

"_Wait! What?" I demanded, "You watched me for how long?" Anger enveloped my body igniting in my toes, and working its way to increase the pulsing pressure around my brain. "What do you mean, 'you've been watching me?' It's like some creepy horror movie. What's next, whispering 'they're he-ee-re' as we're overrun by aliens?" My heart rate was increasing; the monitor next to my bed going crazy. Heat flamed my face and the pain in my head was so severe, it would be no surprise if it exploded. I couldn't stop. This man was playing some sick joke, I was sure of it._

"_We've been watching for a little over five months, and we understand what was going on. Believe it or not, we were going to take you the next day if you hadn't run away." He looked proud of himself, chest puffing out like a rooster._

_Was this guy serious? "If I hadn't of run away, I would be dead right now! You're telling me that you, and probably a bunch of your goons, have been watching me for months? You obviously know about my less than stellar home life. How could you just sit back, watching my father freak out, kicking, punching, screaming, sometimes he even bit me you know." I yelled shoving the hospital gown roughly up my arm, displaying the raised scar clearly distinguishable as human teeth._

_Nonplussed, the stranger removed a pen from his breast pocket and began writing notes on the clipboard. "What happened to make you run away?"_

_I was stunned. How could the man completely ignore what I had revealed? Instead of shock, perhaps even sympathy, the man continued like nothing happened. Fury rippled through my muscles. I wanted to hit him, scream in his face and make him understand how deeply my father's actions had affected me. Not to mention, learning this guy had the chance to make it all go away, and refused._

"_Are you kidding me? I just told you that my father bit me, and you didn't even flinch. What kind of monster are you? What type of person knows a young kid is being beating, probably watches it even, and does nothing? You're just as bad as he is. You know, it doesn't matter, I got away and that's all that counts!"_

"_Emmett, I'm sorry you feel like we've let you down, but I assure you that was not our intention."_

"_Right…whatever…I just don't understand. Do you get your jollies from the pain of others? There cannot be a heart in your chest if you can just sit back and watch all that shit happen without doing anything. You're a big guy, you could have taken down my dad."_

_A crease was beginning to develop between the man's eyebrows as he frowned. Perhaps I should have seen that as a sign. He was getting angry; perhaps I should have backed down. I couldn't though, every time the rational part of my brain took root, his lack of action would somehow return to the forefront of my thoughts further fueling my rage._

"_Look here boy, I know you don't agree with what happened, but you need to move on. Not everything in life is going to turn out exactly how you want it to."_

_I didn't even try to muffle the snort that left my mouth. The longer this guy talked, the more annoyed I became. He wasn't even trying to reason with me. Just spouting off to hear his own voice._

"_You think I don't know that. I'm thirteen years old, I chose to leave the only home I've ever known because I couldn't stand the thought of living with my father for one more second. I've been living on the streets of South Central LA for the past month, tired, dirty, praying I wouldn't get killed. That's not exactly how I hoped my life would be." Sarcasm dripped with each word. I had had enough._

"_What are you doing in here? You're not a doctor, you're not Luke. I don't want you here. Leave!"_

"_Now, I can't do that just yet. I told the commander I'd ask you a question, and I haven't gotten to it. Can't go making the commander all upset, especially not over you." He shook his head, leering towards my face. Harsh lines marred his face as he sneered in scorn when I flinched at his proximity. "I don't know what the commander sees in you anyway."_

_I was livid. "Go on, spit it out so you can get the hell out of my room!"_

_He rolled his eyes, muttering "children" under his breath._

"_My name is Michael Verduin, I work as a liaison for the United States Government and was tasked five months ago with your observation. I was instructed to watch only, no intervention or extraction unless your life was specifically threatened. My team and I, up until that night felt you were in no immediate danger. However, that night your father's behavior gave us cause for alarm, we were prepared to move in the morning, to bring you here. Emmett, the reason we've been watching you, is because Uncle Sam wants you."_

"_Right. What would the government want with a thirteen year old kid? You're pulling my chain."_

"_We've been developing a new course of weaponry over the past few decades. I'm not going to get into the specifics, it's beyond your current scope of knowledge. All you need to know, is the United States feels you're a good candidate. They need young men with a certain temperament, you seem to fit the bill."_

"_Why would I do anything for you? You can't hold me here, let me out!"_

"_Son, you're hurt. You're not going anywhere!"_

_Hearing the word son, I lost it. Disregarding the various medical equipment to which I was currently tied, I heaved my body from the bed and lunged. I was unsteady, weak from my head injury and in immense pain, but no one was going to call me son anymore. I was on my own and didn't care to be reminded of the deadbeat I left behind._

"_You don't get to call me that. No one gets to call me that. I'm not your son. I'm not anyone's son!" My face was purple with rage, body sweating profusely, my breathing heavy and labored._

"_I knew I would have some problems with you."_

_***_

_Verduin drove a hard bargain and, in the end, I agreed spending the next four and a half years attending a military school by day, and being the US government's guinea pig by night. It wasn't a life I preferred, but I still had Luke, and I was getting paid a ridiculous amount of money for my 'service.' Sometimes it pays to put your life on the line._

_Day after day, month after month, my life followed the same routine. Somedays time dragged, somedays it moved quicker than the blink of an eye. I never knew what to expect, but learned quickly that questions were never answered, so I kept my mouth shut._

_As I sat in the back of the cab, I mulled over the latest twist in my life. Recently, I graduated from the military school earning my high school diploma with honors. Upon reaching this achievement, my time as a lab rat was complete and I was free to live my life as I chose. With almost unending resources, I should have followed my initial thought catching a plane to some exotic destination living a life of luxury. I, however, chose to ignore the smarter part of my brain, and now found myself staring at an all too familiar neighborhood. Time had not treated it well. Paint peeled back from the wood siding of the homes, fences falling haphazardly in yards engulfed in weeds. Here and there, a rusted vehicle was visible in the menagerie. _

_As the cab slowed to a stop I inhaled deeply, squared my shoulders, and marched confidently towards the familiar door. My steps halted as a muffled scream reached my ears. Adrenaline shot through my body as I darted to the front door. It was locked. My anxiety and frustration grew, another scream piercing the quiet of the afternoon. Seeking the fastest entrance, I centered myself before the dingy picture window. Covering my face with my arms, I ran, smashing through the thin glass with ease and landing with a thud in a shower of translucent shards._

"_What the hell?" A deep yet all too familiar voice bellowed in anger, "Who the fuck are you?"_

_Standing, I brushed the remnants of my entrance from my body and turned, making eye contact with my father for the first time in almost five years. He seemed to have weathered, his hair gray, eyes sunken, his formerly defined musculature slack._

"_I heard screaming."_

_A fast glance to his left drew my eyes to the woman cowering on the floor, nose bleeding and not dressed for company. Her fear was apparent when he glanced at her, and I knew she had taken my place. Turning back to me, he puffed up and took a few steps forward._

"_You have no business breaking into my…"_

"_Surprise. Time flies doesn't it. Didn't think you'd ever see my face again did you, Dad?"_

_His mouth gaped open as realization dawned. "Emmett?"_

_I crossed my arms and gave him my sternest look possible. "This beating up on people is going to stop."_

"_Shut it Emmett, you have no right to talk to me like that." Again he turned to the woman, "Get up, you ugly whore!"_

"_Don't call her that."_

_As the woman slowly struggled to her feet, he slapped her across the face._

"_What are you going to do about it? Hit me?" He questioned, a smug look passing across his features._

"_If you don't stop the abuse, I will take matters into my own hands."_

_Challenge was written all over his face as he kicked her in the stomach. I immediately saw red. As I stepped forward, he started swinging._

"_Angelica, call 911, this man is trespassing," he roared to her. She scampered toward the bedroom._

_My father reached for his belt buckle, undoing the clasp and sliding the worn leather from the loops of his jeans. Years of experience reminded me this was his favorite weapon._

"_What's the matter son? You seem to be getting pale." Taking a look back in the bedroom, he noticed the woman, Angelica, hadn't found the phone. "Damn it bitch, come here!"_

_Shaking, she re-entered the living room, trying not to get to close. My father sensed this and used the belt to reach her, hitting her across her legs. He didn't get to do it a second time because I lunged and tackled him to the floor. _

_Memories of the past merged with the present as his face connected with my fist. The dark red blood that started to pour out of his nose didn't deter me from my 'mission', even the loud crack of breaking bones did nothing, although I was careful not to exert my full strength. That would be going too far. I continued, pummeling his face, years of pent up rage finally escaping. I was too wrapped up in my justice, I didn't even notice the sirens getting louder. It wasn't until I was forcefully removed that I finally stopped swinging. _

_***_

_Before I knew it, I was in court charged with attempted murder. I had no family, no one to visit with me, and kept to myself. I hated the place, justice had failed me. I wasn't supposed to end up here wasting away behind bars. Prison was for people like my father. Not me. I was starting to think I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison when Luke, dressed in a black suit, came through the visitation station._

_I felt like it had been forever since I saw him, and I cowered fearing his disappointment. Taking a seat in front of the plexiglass, he motioned towards the phone and grabbed his. _

_Picking up the phone, I looked into his eyes. _

***

There was no solace in my remembrance as I waited for the proceedings to begin. The large, cream colored court room buzzed with curious reporters, photographers and nosey people all circling like vultures waiting for the circus to begin...again. My father sat on one side of the courtroom, the victim. He played his role well neck encased in a brace, even after all these months.

"Emmett McCarty, your friend and guardian has called for an appeal, would you like to continue with this appeal or refuse it."

"I would like the appeal your honor."

"Very well, the case of Mr. McCarty Jr. Versus Mr. McCarty Senior will be called to order," the young blonde judge ordered tapping the gavel against the wooden plaque. The space fell silent except for the occasional paper shuffle.

"Why exactly is there an appeal on your behalf, Mr. McCarty?"

At that point my lawyer responded for me, "Your Honor, we have quite a few victims stepping forward to plead for Mr. McCarty's release."

"Very well," Turning to the opposite side, she spoke again "Mr. Lanford, does your client have anything to add to the case."

My father's attorney stood for a second in thought then declined.

"Mr. Blackburn, the floor is yours."

**A/N: If you hadn't noticed yet, these first few chapters are going to be a little bit slow. Unfortunately, we've got to set the backdrop for the rest of the story. Hang with us, it will all make sense in the end. There is a reason!**

**Thanks! Once again, we appreciate all reviews and P.M.s and we'd love to see yours!**


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